University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


SONNETS 
AND    OTHER    LYRICS 


SONNETS 

AND 

OTHER    LYRICS 


Robert  Silliman  Hillyer 


CAMBRIDGE 
HARVARD   UNIVERSITY   PRESS 

LONDON:  HUMPHREY  MILFORD 

OXFOBD  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

1917 


COPrRIGHT,  1017 
HARVARD  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

Acknowledgments  are  due  to  The  Seven  Arts 
for  permission  to  reprint  "A  Gull,"  to  The 
New  Republic  for  permission  to  reprint  "  To  a 
Scarlatti  Passepied,"  to  The  Poetry  Review  for 
permission  to  reprint  "Doomsday,"  and  to  The 
Harvard  Monthly  and  to  The  Harvard  Advocate 
for  permission  to  reprint  verses  first  published 
in  those  periodicals. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

SONNETS  I-XXXIV  9~42 

TO  A  SCARLATTI  PASSEPIED  45 

DOOMSDAY  46 

SONG :     In  Venily  the  highways  rang  48 

KATAMA  50 

TWILIGHT  51 

OUT  OF  LUCRETIUS  53 

BY  WINTER  SEAS  54 

SONG :     Now  time  has  gathered  to  itself  56 

SONG :     When  I  said  farewell  to  thee  57 

TO  THOSE  WHO  DEFENDED  58 

A  HERON  61 

A  GULL  62 

ANTINOUS  63 

WINTER   NIGHT  66 

THE  RECOMPENSE  67 


SONNETS 


QUICKLY  and  pleasantly  the  seasons  blow 

Over  the  meadows  of  eternity, 

As  wave  on  wave  the  pulsings  of  the  sea 

Merge  and  are  lost,  each  in  the  other's  flow. 

Time  is  no  lover;  it  is  only  he 

That  is  the  one  unconquerable  foe, 

He  is  the  sudden  tempest  none  can  know, 

Winged  with  swift  winds  that  none  may  hope  to  flee. 


Fair  child  of  loveliness,  these  endless  fears 
Are  nought  to  us;  let  us  be  gods  of  stone, 
And  set  our  images  beyond  the  years 
On  some  high  mount  where  we  can  be  alone; 
And  thou  shalt  ever  be  as  now  thou  art, 
And  I  shall  watch  thee  with  untroubled  heart. 


II 


THE  golden  spring  redeems  the  withered  year, 
And  wherefore  should  my  spirit  be  afraid 
Though  autumn  winds  wail  through  the  smoky  shade 
And  chill  me  like  the  fleeting  ghost  of  fear  ? 
Sweet  love  of  youth,  I  know  that  thou  must  fade, 
I  know  what  nameless  spectres  hover  near, 
And  that  the  loveliness  I  hold  so  dear, 
Borrowed  from  dust,  to  ashes  must  be  paid. 

Yet  linger  still  over  these  wasted  meadows 

Faint  shreds  of  song,  and  scattered  scents  of  flowers, 

And  from  the  heart's  abyss  of  deepening  shadows 

Rise  the  young  passions  of  immortal  hours. 

The  golden  spring  its  withered  year  redeems; 

Sleep  comes  at  last,  but  sleep  made  rich  with  dreams. 


mo: 


Ill 


THEN  judge  me  as  thou  wilt,  I  cannot  flee, 
I  cannot  turn  away  from  thee  forever, 
For  there  are  bonds  that  wisdom  cannot  sever, 
And  slaves  with  souls  far  freer  than  the  free. 
Such  strong  desires  the  Universal  Giver 
With  unknown  plan  has  buried  deep  in  me, 
That  the  passionate  joy  of  watching  thee 
Has  dominated  all  my  life's  endeavor. 

Thou  weariest  of  having  me  so  near, 

I  feel  the  scorn  thou  hast  within  thy  heart, 

And  yet,  thy  face  has  never  seemed  so  dear 

As  now,  when  I  am  minded  to  depart. 

Though  thou  shalt  drive  me  hence,  I  love  thee  so 

That  I  shall  watch  thee  when  thou  dost  not  know. 


[11] 


IV 


To  make  my  days  impatient  with  unrest, 

To  filch  the  quiet  of  the  dark's  repose, 

Seeking  forever  what  my  soul  well  knows 

Is  ever  far  beyond  my  farthest  quest;  — 

So  this  is  love;  swift  joys  and  lingering  woes, 

A  wistful  kiss  beneath  the  ashen  west, 

Farewell  and  greeting,  mouth  to  mouth  once  pressed, 

And  then  the  empty  darkness  onward  flows. 

The  heights  that  I  have  won  do  not  endure, 
They  shrink  beneath  the  stars  I  yearn  to  win, 
The  triumphs  of  my  passion  only  lure 
My  vagrant  feet  to  tread  the  verge  of  sin; 
Though  well  I  know  that  when  I  fall  thereover, 
Love  will  fly  hence;  the  loved  one  and  the  lover. 


[12] 


I  CANNOT  yet  admit  unchecked  despair 

Since  now  my  heart  this  unknown  conflict  wages, 

I  know  not  what  the  endless  strife  presages, 

I  dare  not  welcome  hope,  nor  exile  care. 

For  love  with  fear  and  hope  with  grief  engages, 

And  I  the  burden  of  the  battle  bear; 

Friends  there  are  none,  foes  I  have  everywhere, 

Hope  lies,  grief  stabs,  and  still  the  combat  rages. 

And  thou,  sweet  monarch  of  my  love,  hast  wrought 
This  ruin  on  my  land  of  Venily, 
And  sown  rebellion  in  my  humblest  thought, 
Making  my  dreams  deal  traitorously  with  me; 
But  stay,  I  would  not  that  this  struggle  cease, 
For  having  thee  is  better  far  than  peace. 


[13] 


VI 


How  should  I  think  of  thee  but  with  delight  ? 
How  should  I  greet  thy  face  but  with  a  smile  ? 
And  yet  dark  tears  within  my  heart  defile 
The  dreams  of  thee  that  I  would  have  so  bright. 
If  thou  shouldst  come  and  end  this  lonely  while, 
These  leaden  hours  of  the  sleepless  night, 
Still  should  I  fear  to  show  thee  what  I  write, 
Lest  I  repent  in  vain,  and  thou  revile. 

Yet  couldst  thou  read  these  scriptures  of  my  heart, 

Graven  in  passion  with  no  base  control, 

For  one  brief  moment,  then,  they  might  impart 

Some  almost  worthy  offering  from  my  soul. 

I  write  for  thee,  and  cannot  let  thee  read, 

Thus  love  denies  itself  its  utmost  need.   • 


[14] 


VII 


How  strange  it  is  that  thine  ethereal  grace 
Should  make  me  sorry  by  its  loveliness, 
For  surely  beauty  is  designed  to  bless 
Those  hours  of  youth  that  have  so  short  a  race, 
And  yet  the  memory  of  some  old  distress 
Shadows  me  over  when  I  see  thy  face, 
And  yearning  ever  for  one  swift  embrace 
Has  tinged  my  joy  in  thee  with  bitterness. 

The  young  smiles  flashing  brightly  free  and  fair, 
The  laughing  stars  that  in  thy  deep  eyes  shine, — 
It  is  not  love  for  me  that  lights  them  there, 
I  see  their  beauty,  but  they  are  not  mine. 
Thy  loveliness  is  joy  poisoned  with  pain; 
Rapture  to  love,  torment  to  love  in  vain. 


[15] 


VIII 

THE  rising  deluges  of  circumstance 

Have  flooded  all  the  gardens  of  my  dreams, 

No  more  the  inner  sun  of  gladness  gleams 

Upon  pale  flowers  of  a  lover's  trance. 

Dear  Love,  I  know  not  why  this  torrent  seems 

To  drown  in  turbid  billowings  of  chance 

The  blossoms  of  thy  visioned  countenance, 

Soiling  my  richest  thoughts  with  earthy  streams. 

The  river  of  the  world  is  ever  strong, 

I  would  that  I  could  leave  this  doubtful  shore, 

And  yet  I  linger,  hoping  that  ere  long 

The  swirling  tide  will  crush  my  dreams  no  more. 

And  if  my  gardens  ever  bloom  again, 

How  fair  will  be  thy  perfect  blossom  then! 


[16] 


IX 


I  LOVE  devoutly;  thou  shall  seek  for  long 
Ere  thou  receive  another  offering 
Such  as  these  passionate  tributes  that  I  bring 
With  all  the  deep  submission  of  the  strong. 
I  would  that  all  my  chants  of  thee  could  ring 
Through  the  great  sorrows  of  the  nameless  throng, 
And  that  thy  beauty  echoing  in  my  song 
Could  wake  the  weary  city  into  spring. 

Since  thou  hast  changed  my  life,  and  in  my  heart 
Hast  deep  implanted  this  new  love  of  life, 
Perchance  these  phantoms  of  thee  will  impart 
Beauty  and  courage  to  a  world  at  strife. 
And  yet  I  tarry  long,  in  fear  to  share 
With  common  men  a  song  of  one  so  rare. 


[17] 


X 


LET  those  who  love  hear  me;  I  speak  as  one 
Who  hath  known  every  portion  of  love's  pain, 
And  all  the  swift  delights  that  flare  and  wane 
Between  the  setting  and  the  rising  sun. 
Sins  have  I  known  whose  sweetness  left  no  stain, 
And  virtues  that  much  villainy  have  done, 
But  now  the  pattern  that  my  heart  has  spun 
Is  finished,  and  I  see  that  it  is  vain. 

Vain  is  the  virgin  kiss,  and  vain  the  thought 

That  binds  the  heart's  desire  from  afar, 

Each  loves  the  image  his  own  mind  has  wrought, 

Each  worships  no  true  spirit,  but  a  star. 

By  none  is  this  believed  until  the  years 

Reveal  the  sad  deception,  and  with  tears. 


[18] 


XI 


WE  have  come  back  to  one  another;  yes, 
After  long  languishing  in  spheres  apart, 
Thou  hast  returned,  since  Love's  own  self  thou  art, 
And  I  in  penitence  and  fearfulness. 

0  gentle  Love,  that  leaves  me  not  to  smart 
Forever  in  the  clutches  of  distress, 

When  with  a  kindly  pardon  thou  canst  bless 
Consummately  my  long-disconsolate  heart, 

Forgive  me  yet  again,  if  to  this  joy 

1  do  not  rise  at  once  from  melancholy, 
Mine  was  the  utmost  sin  thus  to  destroy 
Our  calm  devotion  with  unbridled  folly; 
Bear  with  me  yet  awhile  until  I  prove 
The  tenderness  of  all-repentant  love. 


XII 

I  WILL  fling  wide  the  windows  of  my  soul 
Under  the  deep  hush  of  nocturnal  skies, 
When  the  white  legions  of  the  stars  arise 
And  write  their  secrets  on  the  Master's  scroll. 
I  will  go  forth  and  watch  with  slumberous  eyes 
The  languid  billows  of  the  ocean  roll 
In  silver  rhythms  on  some  hidden  shoal, 
Swelling  with  laughter,  falling  back  with  sighs. 

And  in  the  tranquil  twilight  of  that  place, 

The  lovely  solitude  of  lonely  sands, 

Will  flash  the  pale  resplendence  of  thy  grace 

In  sudden  beauty  out  of  other  lands, 

And  I  will  kneel  and  kiss  thine  ivory  hands 

Beneath  the  flowered  music  of  thy  face. 


[20] 


XIII 

POOR  faltering  lines,  my  weary  soul's  relief, 

The  balm  of  passion,  opiate  of  pain, 

A  mightier  hand  than  mine,  a  mightier  brain, 

Had  wrought  in  you  an  immemorial  grief. 

But  though  my  love  and  art  both  prove  in  vain, 

Wither  and  die  with  me,  I  had  as  lief 

That  it  were  so;  respite  however  brief 

Is  all-sufficient  to  the  living-slain. 

For  separate  voices  sink  at  eventide, 

And  none  survives  the  creeping  hush  of  time, 

Nought  lives  but  life;  the  fame  of  them  that  died 

Brings  back  no  vestige  of  their  lovely  prime, 

Fame  and  oblivion  shall  merge  again 

In  nameless  loves  and  laughter,  tears  and  pain. 


XIV 

LET  all  men  see  the  ruins  of  the  shrine 
That  I,  with  passionate  and  holy  care, 
Built  long  ago  from  laughter  and  despair 
That  godly  love  might  have  a  fane  divine. 
Let  the  wide  wings  of  darkness  hover  where 
The  god  of  youth  once  drank  his  rarest  wine, 
And  let  the  rank  breath  of  some  poisoned  vine 
Choke  the  last  sigh  that  lingers  on  the  air. 

Hurl  the  white  sanctuary  down,  and  bare 

Its  inmost  secrets  to  the  gaze  of  men, 

Unveil  the  altar  to  the  vulgar  stare, 

And  let  none  seek  to  build  it  up  again;  — 

Ah,  when  the  last  wall  crumbles,  stone  by  stone, 

I  shall  go  hence  that  I  may  weep  alone. 


[22] 


XV 

How  oft  the  traitor  trumpet  sounds  retreat, 
Beguiling  my  bewildered  soul  again, 
When  all  the  forces  on  the  battle-plain 
Are  ready  to  do  homage  at  my  feet; 
And  when  I  fight  with  strength,  it  is  in  vain, 
For  then  I  find  no  foe  before  my  eyes, 
They  lurk  in  shadow,  waiting  to  surprise 
My  soul  when  it  is  weary  and  in  pain. 

How  shall  I  gauge  the  conflict  and  the  odds, 
Misled  and  blinded  in  the  midst  of  strife  ? 
How  shall  I  know  mine  enemy  ?     O  gods, 
Grant  me  one  moment  worthy  of  my  life, 
To  see  at  last  beyond  the  dust  and  shade, 
And  face  real  foemen,  strong  and  unafraid. 


[23] 


XVI 

EVEN  as  love  grows  more,  I  write  the  less, 
Impelled  to  speak,  unable  still  to  voice 
The  lyric  thoughts  like  angels  that  rejoice 
Attendant  on  thy  godly  loveliness. 
Stay  the  bright  swallow  high  in  airy  poise, 
Carve  out  of  stone  an  infinite  caress, 
Garner  the  fruits  of  tears  and  happiness, 
Make  bloom  forever  what  an  hour  destroys, 

Then  shamed  by  such  unprecedented  skill 
I  may  find  words  to  name  thee,  and  to  sing 
Such  praises  of  thy  beauty  as  shall  fill 
The  listening  world  with  floods  of  carolling; 
Till  then  thou  art  like  starlight  on  the  air, 
Or  clouds  at  dawn,  unutterably  fair. 


[84] 


XVII 

VOICE  that  art  life  to  me,  I  almost  hear 
Thy  sweet  familiar  cadence  on  the  breeze, 
At  times  a  note  lost  high  among  the  trees, 
At  times  a  far  call  infinitely  clear; 
Face  that  art  love  to  me,  my  spirit  sees 
In  each  unfolding  bud  of  the  young  year 
Imperfect  shadows  of  thy  grace  appear, 
For  thou,  dear  one,  art  fairer  than  all  these; 

Soul  that  art  part  of  me,  at  last  I  know 
What  murmurs  on  the  wakening  breezes  blow, 
What  hand  of  ivory  pours  out  the  wine 
Filling  the  cup  of  spring  to  overflow; 
All  beauty  mirrors  what  is  only  thine, 
And  thou  the  source  not  mortal,  but  divine. 


XVIII 

LOVELY  art  thou,  and  everything  of  thine 

Reflects  the  glory  of  thy  noble  grace; 

That  thou  shouldst  have  returned  my  swift  embrace 

Has  made  me  feel  that  I  too  am  divine. 

My  spirit  met  thy  spirit  face  to  face, 

Thy  godlike  heart  has  not  rejected  mine, 

And  I  have  been  uplifted  in  the  shrine, 

And  high  exalted  in  the  holy  place. 

Think  not  that  thou  or  I  shall  ever  fade 

Forgotten  in  the  silence  of  the  years; 

We  are  but  one,  this  world  of  myth  and  shade 

Shall  not  appall  us  with  its  dusty  fears; 

If  Death  should  find  the  hearts  whom  Love  hath  kissed, 

We  never  met,  and  nothing  doth  exist. 


[26] 


XIX 

ALTHOUGH  the  spring  is  hastening  to  pursue 
The  swift  white  deer  of  winter  through  the  glades, 
Sometimes  they  pause  for  breath  beneath  the  shades; 
Then  blows  the  frozen  hurricane  anew. 
And  so  the  chill  of  thy  neglect  invades 
My  heart,  in  which  of  late  a  timid  few 
Flowers  began  to  spring,  until  there  blew 
This  sudden  storm,  blighting  the  tender  blades. 

But  when  April  at  last  shall  put  to  flight 
The  pallid  cohorts  of  the  lingering  snow, 
And  every  leaf  lifts  upward  to  the  light, 
And  every  spirit  blossoms  from  its  woe, 
Ah,  then  relent,  and  let  me  have  my  share 
Of  joy,  and  rise  up  radiant  from  care. 


[27] 


XX 

To  walk  beside  the  river  in  the  dawn 
Is  fair  indeed  when  spring  is  in  the  breeze, 
Bird-carollings,  the  mumbling  hum  of  bees 
Sing  matins  from  the  dew-bespangled  lawn; 
And  dancing  there  behind  those  druid  trees, 
Lurks  in  delight  a  little  singing  faun, 
Who  laughs  at  us,  and  yet  is  always  gone 
When  we  would  trace  his  scattered  melodies. 

Alone,  dear  love,  with  thee  and  the  new  day, 
Now  am  I  radiant  like  the  golden  fields, 
No  distant  longing  and  no  dim  dismay, 
Nought  but  the  gladness  that  the  hour  yields. 
To  walk  beside  the  river  is  most  fair 
When  Love  is  young  and  spring  is  in  the  air! 


C*8] 


XXI 

Two  lovers  stood  alone  beneath  the  night, 
And,  quickened  with  a  sudden  strength,  one  said, 
:<  To-night  is  ours  to  snatch  from  out  the  dead 
An  immortality  of  vast  delight. 
When  Youth  has  felt  the  touch  of  time  and  fled, 
When  Love  in  chill  despair  has  taken  flight, 
There  is  one  joy  that  knows  not  change  nor  blight, 
fAh,  kiss  me,  ere  the  fleeting  hour  be  sped!  " 

The  hovering  moon  leaned  low  in  rapt  desire, 

Two  souls  uprose  beyond  oblivion, 

A  shout  triumphal  shook  the  starry  choir, 

Then  sacred  silence  fell,  until  the  sun 

Gazed  like  a  victor,  as  he  gazes  now, 

On  the  new  day  and  the  undying  vow. 


[29] 


XXII 

FLY,  joyous  wind,  through  all  the  wakened  earth, 
Now  when  the  portals  of  the  dawn  outpour 
Laughter  and  radiant  sunlight  from  the  store 
Of  spring's  glad  passion  and  loud-ringing  mirth. 
Cry  to  the  world  that  I  despair  no  more; 
Heart  greets  my  heart,  and  hope  has  proved  its  worth; 
Fly  where  the  meadows  swell  in  flowery  birth, 
Chant  everywhere,  and  everywhere  adore. 

Circle  the  basking  hills  in  fragrant  flight, 

Shout  "Rapture!  Rapture!"  if  sweet  sorrow  passes, 

And  whisper  low  in  intimate  delight 

My  love-song  to  the  undulating  grasses. 

Grief  is  no  more,  Love  rises  with  the  spring, 

O  fly,  free  wind,  and  "Rapture!  Rapture!"  sing. 


[30] 


XXIII 

OVER  the  waters  but  a  single  bough 
Stretches  in  silhouette  against  the  moon, 
The  little  dark  waves  haunt  the  dim  lagoon 
And  splash  against  the  languid-moving  prow. 
I  should  have  left  thee  when  the  afternoon 
Surrendered  to  pursuing  night,  for  now 
Too  perilously  dear  and  fair  art  thou, 
And  love  too  soon  invoked  shall  die  too  soon. 

I  fear  the  very  floods  of  happiness 
That  swell  the  narrow  chambers  of  my  heart, 
Knowing  indeed  that  with  our  first  caress, 
Contentment  and  my  soul  forever  part; 
O  night  of  love  and  beauty,  all  the  years 
Shall  pay  for  thy  brief  ecstasy  with  tears. 


[31] 


XXIV 

THERE  was  a  boy  in  some  forgotten  spring 
Who  fled  from  all  his  comrades  at  the  school, 
And  in  the  hills  beside  a  forest  pool 
Lay  on  the  grass,  watching,  and  listening. 
And  as  he  listened,  melancholy  delight 
Stirred  in  his  heart  a  pang  he  did  not  know, 
And  voices  of  new  passion  bade  him  write 
Of  the  vague  thoughts  that  shook  his  spirit  so. 

Now  on  the  battlefield  of  later  times, 
I  meet  those  dreams  returning  in  the  forms 
Of  mighty  friends  and  foes  amid  the  strife; 
And  reading  those  imperfect  boyish  rhymes, 
I  hear  through  the  blown  dust  of  many  storms 
The  hymns  of  the  advance-guard  of  my  life. 


CSS] 


XXV 

Now  would  that  thou  wert  here,  my  happiness, 
Here  in  the  flesh,  or  else  completely  gone 
Out  of  my  life,  out  of  my  thoughts  withdrawn, 
And  memory  clean  of  love  and  old  distress. 
Night  dreams  in  pain  of  thee,  and  on  that  lawn 
Where  we  would  sit  at  eventide,  and  press 
Heart  against  heart,  only  white  loneliness 
Stretches  beneath  the  winter's  cheerless  dawn. 

Thou  woundest  me  with  absence,  all  the  air 
Seems  echoing  thy  name,  and  through  the  day 
I  woo  forgetfulness,  but  unaware 
My  thoughts  return  to  our  farewell  caress. 
Now  would  that  thou  wert  here,  my  happiness, 
Joy  dwells  with  thee,  and  thou  art  far  away. 


[33] 


XXVI 

\VHAT  though  the  night  be  dissonant  with  rain, 
And  roofs  drip  in  a  mournful  monotone 
On  the  deserted  streets,  and  breezes  moan 
Over  the  naked  boughs  like  ghosts  in  pain; 
Yet  are  there  voices  through  the  darkness  blown 
From  some  remote  celestial  domain 
That  hint  of  peace,  and  scatter  all  the  vain 
Questions  that  mock  the  soul  brooding  alone. 

All  nights  are  beautiful,  but  in  the  warm 

Wet  darkness  that  knows  neither  stars  nor  moon, 

Whose  bells  half -heard  through  the  complaining  storm 

Bind  the  wind's  discords  in  harmonious  tune, 

The  soul  withdraws  into  its  cave  of  rest, 

And  dreams  long  dreams,  well-loved,  but  not  expressed. 


[34] 


XXVII 

ABOUT  the  headlands  and  the  rocky  shoals 
I  hear  the  breath  of  twilight,  sighing,  sighing, 
And  over  the  wail  and  dash  of  breakers,  crying, 
The  voices  of  old  ships  and  wandering  souls. 
Through  the  wet  air  squadrons  of  gulls  are  flying, 
Wheeling  but  once  against  the  skies,  then  tossed 
Into  the  wind  like  a  flight  of  visions  lost 
With  vanished  souls  into  the  darkness  dying. 

O  harp  of  the  winds  singing  above  the  dead, 

O  rush  of  wings  over  the  turbulent  deep, 

Pray  for  the  spirits  uncompanioned, 

The  dreams  returned  into  oblivion, 

The  men  drifting  far  from  the  stars  and  sun, 

Lost  in  a  lonely  night  and  a  loveless  sleep. 


XXVIII 

THE  insurgent  sea  sweeps  through  the  barrier 

Triumphant,  all  its  foaming  strength  amassed 

In  one  tempestuous  tide,  wallowing  past 

The  broken  banks  and  the  worn  dykes  that  were 

Upbuilt  by  coward  hearts;  sated  at  last 

It  settles  in  calm  pools  about  the  bar, 

So  that  at  twilight  the  young  evening  star 

Beholds  its  image  in  still  waters  cast. 

Against  unyielding  shores  I  too  have  striven, 
And  won  at  last  like  the  uprising  sea, 
And  sink  to  rest  beneath  a  quiet  heaven, 
After  long  struggles,  a  long  victory; 
But  my  star  vanishes,  its  light  withdrawn, 
And  darkness  falls  unpromising  of  dawn. 


[36] 


XXIX 


not  of  waning  love  and  changing  days, 
Youth  may  be  short  and  life  may  not  endure, 
Yet  with  a  strength  unslacked,  a  vision  sure, 
My  love  companions  thee  in  all  thy  ways. 
Whither  thou  wanderest  in  times  unsure 
Of  peace,  however  far  thy  spirit  strays 
From  love  of  me,  my  spirit  ever  stays 
Close  to  thy  side,  and  there  shall  rest  secure. 

If  thou  shouldst  weary  of  me,  and  alone 

I  walked  with  grief,  yet  should  I  be  aware 

How  far  unworthy  I  had  been  to  share 

In  thy  diviner  life,  or  sing  thy  praise; 

If  thou  shouldst  hate  me,  yet  I  am  thine  own, 

Speak  not  of  waning  love  and  changing  days. 


[37] 


XXX 

\Vno  follows  Love  shall  walk  in  outland  places, 
Beyond  the  common  cheer  of  hall  and  town, 
He  shall  forget  all  things,  the  friendly  faces, 
The  strife  for  wealth,  the  struggle  for  renown. 
A  young  crusader  putting  by  his  crown, 
A  pilgrim  following  a  holy  vision, 
Heeding  nor  threat  of  king  nor  gibe  of  clown, 
The  tyrant's  hatred  nor  the  world's  derision,  — 

Thus  shall  he  wander;  in  no  bright  Elysian 

Meadows  shall  be  his  quest,  but  through  the  vast 

And  midnight  fears  that  shake  his  heart's  decision 

With  staring  madness,  till  he  see  at  last 

Like  Parsifal  in  ages  long  ago, 

Love's  flaming  chalice  out  of  darkness  glow. 


[38] 


XXXI 

ONLY  last  night  we  dwelt  together,  we 
Whose  lips  the  ultimate  farewells  enthrall; 
Last  night  itself  is  but  a  stone  let  fall 
Into  the  chasm  of  eternity. 
There  shall  be  echoes,  I  shall  hear  them  call 
However  faint,  however  far  they  be; 
There  shall  be  shadows,  I  shall  always  see 
Them  beckon  from  Time's  memory-haunted  hall, 

The  dear  mirages  of  the  years  gone  by 
Glow  falsely  golden  from  their  dark  domain, 
But  now  they  stir  me  not.     "  Mere  mockery," 
Low  to  my  heart  I  say  to  still  its  pain, 
And  cloud-built  cities  in  the  sunset  sky 
Fade  out  in  dark  across  the  endless  plain. 


[39] 


XXXII 

1  HOU  only  wert  my  hope,  and  thou  art  gone. 
Thou,  the  one  star  in  monotones  of  sky, 
Art  vanished  like  a  meteor,  and  I, 
Lost  in  the  night,  have  ceased  to  pray  for  dawn. 
I  watched  thee  fade,  I  saw  thee  passing  by 
And  tried  to  call  thee,  but  my  lips  were  dumb; 
It  had  been  better  hadst  thou  never  come,  — 
Remembered  riches  mock  my  poverty. 

Blow  from  afar  the  little  sounds  of  bells, 
Wood-smoke  hangs  thinly  on  the  autumn  air, 
The  town's  unconscious  hush  is  like  a  prayer, 
And  night  sleeps  pleasantly  among  the  dells; 
I  only  wander  on,  and  know  not  where, 
Through  the  great  dark,  pursued  by  faint  farewells, 


[40] 


XXXIII 

IF  in  some  fair  Elysian  seclusion 
We  yet  shall  find  the  dreams  that  we  have  wrought 
To  guide  our  souls  while  the  dark  strife  is  fought 
Amongst  these  shades  moving  in  black  confusion, 
If  with  our  finite  sorrows  we  have  bought 
Infinite  joy,  safe  from  the  world's  intrusion, 
And  in  this  wilderness  of  blind  delusion 
Have  sought  one  vision  worthy  to  be  sought, 

Then  we  are  not  irrevocably  parted, 
But  fighting  upward,  each  in  his  own  fashion, 
From  mortal  dust  to  an  immortal  passion, 
Separate  in  earthly  chance,  yet  single-hearted, 
We  that  in  steep  and  lonely  paths  have  trod, 
At  dawn  shall  meet  before  the  face  of  God. 


[41] 


XXXIV 

LONG  after  both  of  us  are  scattered  dust, 
And  alien  souls,  perchance,  shall  read  of  thee, 
Guessing  the  passions  that  have  crushed  from  me 
These  poor  confessions  of  my  love  and  trust; 
Ah,  well  I  know  how  heartless  they  will  be, 
For  some  will  laugh,  and  others,  more  unjust, 
Whose  minds  know  not  of  love,  but  only  lust, 
Will  stain  the  vesture  of  our  memory. 

And  yet  a  few  there  may  be  who  will  feel 
My  true  devotion  and  my  deep  desires, 
And  know  that  these  unhappy  lines  reveal 
Only  new  images  in  changeless  fires; 
And  they,  indeed,  will  linger  with  a  sigh 
To  think  that  beauty  such  as  thine  must  die. 


OTHER    LYRICS 


TO     A     SCARLATTI     PASSEPIED 

STRANGE  little  tune,  so  thin  and  rare, 
Like  scents  of  roses  of  long  ago, 
Quavering  lightly  upon  the  strings 
Of  a  violin,  and  dying  there 
With  a  dancing  flutter  of  delicate  wings; 
Thy  courtly  joy  and  thy  gentle  woe, 
Thy  gracious  gladness  and  plaintive  fears 
Are  lost  in  the  clamorous  age  we  know, 
And  pale  like  a  moon  in  the  lurid  day; 
A  phantom  of  music,  strangely  fled 
From  the  princely  halls  of  the  quiet  dead, 
Down  the  long  lanes  of  the  vanished  years, 
Echoing  frailly  and  far  away. 


[45] 


DOOMSDAY 

THE  garlands  and  the  songs  of  May 
Shall  welcome  in  the  Judgment  Day; 
About  the  basking  countryside 
Blossom  the  souls  of  them  that  died. 
O  Dead,  awake!  Arise  in  bloom! 
Upon  the  joyous  day  of  doom. 

They  rise  up  from  the  bleeding  earth 
In  gracious  legions  of  rebirth, 
Each  as  a  flower  or  a  tree 
Of  verdant  immortality, 
And  hosts  of  lyric  angels  sing 
In  the  rippling  groves  of  spring. 

From  the  tomb  of  youth  there  grows 

A  passionately  petaled  rose, 

Where  the  virgin  whitely  lies, 

A  lily  fair  as  Paradise, 

And  in  that  old  oak's  leafy  glee 

Some  gouty  sire  makes  sport  of  me. 

j 

[46] 


O  Dead  of  yore  and  yesterday, 
All  hail  the  resurrecting  May! 
Beside  you  in  the  flowering  grass 
The  feet  of  youth  and  love  shall  pass, 
And  we  that  greet  you  with  a  smile 
Shall  join  you  in  a  little  while. 


[47] 


SONG 

IN  Venily  the  highways  rang 
With  voices  of  the  April  day, 
And  all  about  the  budding  way 
The  lyric  soul  of  morning  sang. 

The  dripping  trees  were  soft  and  new 
When  dawn  lay  smiling  on  the  hills, 
Gemming  her  breast  with  daffodils, 
And  bathing  in  the  rainbow  dew. 

We  trod  the  streets  of  Venily, 
We  knew  its  paths,  my  love  and  I, 
And  when  the  light  fell  from  the  sky, 
And  when  the  dark  devoured  the  sea, 

We  wrung  each  hour  of  its  joy, 
We  lived  each  brave  unspoken  thought, 
But  the  day  came,  and  we  were  nought, 
Nought  but  a  frightened  girl  and  boy. 


[483 


The  flower  of  remembrance  springs 
Where  Venily  my  city  stood, 
But  still  in  the  enchanted  wood 
The  lyric  soul  of  morning  sings. 


[49] 


KATAMA 

THERE  is  no  sunlight  on  the  dunes  this  hour, 
For  the  last  sword  has  swept  the  twilight  skies, 
Flashed  far  aloft,  and  vanished.     A  gull  flies 
Like  a  black  bee  into  the  sunset  flower. 

Faint  inarticulate  echoes  with  the  breeze 
Drift  in  upon  the  silence  from  afar, 
Like  divine  voices  speaking  wondrous  rhymes; 
And  slowly  from  the  vague  and  misty  seas 
In  lonely  vigil  rises  the  first  star, 
Dreaming  of  distant  lands  and  buried  times. 


[50] 


TWILIGHT 

Now  the  thrush  no  longer  calls 
Through  the  woods'  reverberant  halls, 
Now  the  sunlight's  flickering  sheen 
Through  the  windy  webs  of  green 
Pales  away,  and  deepening  shades 
Harbinger  advancing  night, 
And  the  creeping  dusk  invades 
The  waning  kingdom  of  the  light. 
Darkness  with  its  coronet 
Of  stars  has  not  come  hither  yet, 
Neither  day  nor  night  on  high 
Rules  the  regions  of  the  sky, 
Time  has  fled,  and  fled  also 
Mortal  fear  and  mortal  woe. 

Spirits  sleeping  far  apart 
Wondering  rise  white  from  tears, 
Hand  clasps  hand,  heart  kisses  heart 
Across  the  distance  of  the  years. 

Vision  hour,  twilight  hour, 
Dead  love  and  the  withered  flower 

[51] 


Claim  thee  as  their  own  and  bloom 
Dream-like  from  a  crumbled  tomb;  — 
Now  the  thrush  no  longer  calls 
Through  the  woods'  reverberant  halls, 
Now  the  dusk  is  come,  and  day 
And  night  and  time  are  fled  away. 


[52] 


OUT    OF   LUCRETIUS 

BE  calm,  O  soul  so  often  tried, 
Sleep  once  was  thine,  and  sleep  shall  come  again, 
Ere  thou  wert  born,  when  thou  hast  died, 
Not  thine  the  pain. 

Before  thou  wokest  from  the  womb 
Sorrow  and  hate  were  old,  and  fear  and  need, 
Thou  didst  not  know  them;  in  the  tomb 
Thou  shalt  not  heed. 

Serenely  face  thine  undertaking. 
Sorrow  is  great  ?  thy  slumber  shall  be  deep, 
And  life  nought  but  a  moment's  waking 
From  sleep  to  sleep. 


[53] 


BY    WINTER    SEAS 

BENEATH  the  thin  edge  of  the  watery  world 

The  sun  drops  down,  its  wavering  light  is  cast 

On  the  white  breakers  foaming  line  on  line; 

The  flapping  wind  is  furled 

And  vanquished  day  retreats  at  last. 

The  frozen  dunes  and  the  wet  sands  resign 

Their  tints  of  purple  and  of  gold, 

As  gathering  in  the  shadows  they  enfold 

The  silence  in  a  seamless  pall. 

So  move  the  years  to  their  predestined  night, 

So  fade  the  colours  from  the  festival 

Of  youth's  imagining  and  love's  delight, 

And  gradually  from  the  failing  sight 

The  dark  removes  the  visionary  lands 

Which  tempt  the  gaze  to  rest  on  hopes  afar, 

Leaving  beneath  a  solitary  star 

Only  the  narrow  prospect  of  bleak  sands. 

A  scream  strikes  through  the  air, 

And  falling  at  my  feet  from  out  the  frigid  night 

A  dead  gull  flutters,  stricken  in  its  flight, 

[54] 


Its  wings  outstretched  stiff  with  unbending  ice. 
Cold,  cold  and  white  it  glimmers  there, 
A  still-unconsecrated  sacrifice. 

To  what  cruel  deity,  pale  wayfarer, 

Hast  thou  been  offered,  stricken  in  the  pride 

Of  soaring  over  the  immeasurable  tide 

That  sweeps  in  slow  and  wide 

Above  the  ruins  of  a  thousand  lands  ? 

The  wings  that  beat  triumphant  shall  not  stir 

Again,  nor  shall  a  single  note 

Swell  the  strong  sinews  of  that  splendid  throat, 

And  soon  beneath  the  fickle  sands 

Shall  vanish  the  last  sign  of  thy  long  strife. 

Oh,  what  cruel  god  has  plucked  with  impious  hands 

The  pinions  of  adventure  from  thy  life  ? 

So  falls  the  stricken  spirit  down  the  skies, 
Its  power  blighted  in  the  frozen  breath 
Of  time,  and  on  some  undiscovered  shore 
Gives  up  the  trophies  of  its  brave  emprise, 
While  through  the  broken  rocks  and  crannies  pour 
The  inrushing  tides  of  overwhelming  death. 

[55] 


SONG 

Now  time  has  gathered  to  itself 

The  lily  and  the  rose, 
To  mould  upon  a  dusty  shelf 

Where  no  man  knows. 

Now  all  things  lovely  fail  and  wane, 
The  tender  petals  close, 

And  in  the  dawn  shall  bloom  again 
No  lily,  no  rose. 

Now  from  the  garden  of  thy  face 

The  lily  and  the  rose 
Are  gathered  to  a  dusty  place 

Where  no  man  knows. 


SONG 

WHEN  I  said  farewell  to  thee, 
Oh,  I  was  a  skilful  player! 

Never  actor  laughed  like  me, 
Never  any  mime  was  gayer; 

But  my  heart  in  misery 

Sought  some  god  in  prayer. 

Now  the  night  comes,  when  all  men 
Put  their  lines  and  masques  away, 

Tears  will  claim  the  lover  then 
As  a  prologue  to  the  play; 

Tears  for  darkness,  till  again 
Laughter  for  the  day. 


[57] 


TO    THOSE    WHO    DEFENDED 

(THE  LLOYD  McKra  GARRISON  PRIZE  POEM 
HARVARD  UNIVERSITY,  1916) 


I 

How  vain  it  seems,  how  vain  the  valiant  strength 
Of  nations  risen  in  splendour  to  the  sun, 
For  down  the  weary  stretch  of  battle-length 
Surges  a  conflict  that  is  never  done, 
And  of  all  victories  and  losses,  none 
Survives  the  memory  of  a  day,  and  time 
Takes  back  the  withering  garlands  one  by  one 
Of  vaunted  triumph  and  of  cause  sublime. 

O  Dead  who  sacrificed  your  years  of  prime, 
You  sacrificed  them  vainly,  and  but  died 
Like  actors  in  some  oft-repeated  mime, 
Some  outworn  play  of  Lust  and  Greed  and  Pride, 
Some  allegory  writ  by  bloody  hands 
Far  in  the  unknown  past,  in  devastated  lands. 


[58] 


II 

O  nameless  Dead  of  yore  and  yesterday 

Who  sleep  untroubled  in  deep  quietude, 

Long  from  the  sharp  alarums  of  the  fray, 

You  rest  so  silently  in  the  subdued 

Unchanging  dusk  of  dreamless  solitude, 

How  should  you  know  that  still  the  same  gaunt  war 

Plows  the  old  field  of  battle  where  you  stood, 

And  flings  the  seed  of  suffering  afar! 

Now  quiet  twilight  woos  the  evening  star, 
Now  falls  the  respite  of  a  silent  hour; 
Inviolate  and  calm  the  slumbers  are 
Of  saints  in  holiness,  of  kings  in  power, 
And  calm  the  legions  are  that  lie  in  peace, 
The  dead  who  sleep  the  white  sleep  of  the  last  release. 


[59] 


Ill 

No  traitor  trumpet  summons  for  retreat 

Down  dusty  lines  of  shuddering  despair, 

No  trampled  victory  or  red  defeat 

Screams  a  loud  torment  through  the  smoky  air, 

O  Dead,  or  breaks  your  sleep;  and  yet  somewhere 

Your  weary  comrades  struggle  overhead 

As  you  once  struggled,  and  all  unaware 

They  fight  the  same  fierce  battles  in  your  stead. 

Awake  once  more!    Rise  from  your  ashen  bed! 
You  died  to  end  these  wars,  now  rise  to  life 
Again  on  the  wide  plains  where  once  you  bled 
And  lost  or  won;  there  consummate  the  strife, 
Cry  from  the  bleeding  earth,  from  the  shadowy  past, 
"  This  is  the  last  of  wars!  Forevermore  the  last!  " 


[60] 


A     HERON 

A  HERON  in  the  marshes  stands, 

The  sentinel  of  lost  outlands; 

Unearthly  white  and  immobile 

He  keeps  there  in  the  dying  light 

A  silent  watch  among  the  sedge, 

Challenging  the  creeping  night, 

And  the  slow  mists  that  reel 

Along  the  water's  edge. 

Then  as  the  twilight  fades  at  last, 

Suddenly  like  a  thwarted  ghost 

He  rises  screaming  in  the  vast,  — 

Grey  wings  against  the  greying  vast,  — 

And  soon  is  lost. 

But  in  the  sedge  and  salty  fen 

His  malediction  rings  again 

Like  the  sinister  farewell 

Of  a  soul  from  some  far  hell. 

Then  the  hazes  disappear, 

And  the  starlight,  steady-clear, 

Whitens  the  trembling  air  and  breaks  the  spell. 

[61] 


A     GULL 

GREY  wings,  O  grey  wings  against  a  cloud 

Over  the  rough  waves  flashing, 

Whose  was  the  scream,  startling  and  loud, 

Keen  through  the  skies,  —  was  it  thine, 

Piercing  above  the  wind  and  the  moaning  whine 

Of  the  wide  seas  dashing  ? 

Whose  was  the  scream  that  I  heard 

In  the  midst  of  the  hurrying  air, — 

Was  it  thine,  lost  bird  ? 

Or  the  voice  of  an  old  despair 

Shrieking  from  years  long  dead, 

Inexorable  spirit  flying 

On  tempest  wings,  that  passed  and  fled 

Through  the  storm  crying  ? 


[62] 


ANTINOUS 

i 

DIM  gardens  sleep  in  darkness,  quiet  trees 
Weave  their  uncertain  boughs  against  the  sky; 
Out  of  the  prison  of  a  cloud  there  flees 
The  fugitive  moon,  slender  and  whitely  shy. 
There  is  music  faltering  upon  the  breeze 
Despairing  like  the  phantom  of  a  sigh; 
The  night  dreams  deep  in  loveliness,  yet  I 
Have  deeper  dreams  and  lovelier  memories. 

For  I  have  seen  leaping  from  out  the  grey 
And  sombre  groves  the  young  Antinous, 
Dancing  and  chanting,  vanishing  away, 
Leaving  the  passionate  gardens  tremulous. 
O  Love!     O  Laughter!  fleet  and  sinuous, 
Full  swiftly  follows  the  despondent  day. 


II 

How  wan  and  weary-eyed  the  cloudy  dawn 

Creeps  through  the  mist  with  sick  and  halting  tread; 

The  splendour  of  these  wasted  bowers  is  gone, 

The  old  illusion  of  the  dark  is  dead. 

Some  godly  auspices  have  been  withdrawn, 

On  high  some  awful  sentence  has  been  said; 

See  how  the  garlands  rot  upon  the  head 

Of  yon  dispirited  and  stony  faun. 

And  Adrian's  ship  with  wild  teeth  in  the  foam, 

With  blazoned  pinions  to  the  foggy  breeze, 

Bears  on  its  decks  the  mightiest  lords  of  Rome, 

Imperial  hosts  upon  disconsolate  seas,  - 

The  gods  shall  spare  the  majesty  of  these, 

But  one  white  laughing  boy  returns  not  home.  .  .  . 


[64] 


Ill 

COME,  let  us  hasten  hence  and  weep  no  more, 
The  sinking  sea  resumes  its  tranquil  ways, 
Night  looms  expectant  at  the  eastern  door 
And  trails  the  last  cloud  into  lifeless  haze. 
Antinous  is  dead;  we  kneel  before 
The  portals  of  our  past  in  vain,  nor  raise 
The  laughing  phantoms  of  our  yesterdays 
Upon  this  desolate  and  empty  shore. 

Now  deepening  pools  of  shadow  overflow 

Into  the  sea  of  dark.     A  far-off  bell 

Sobs  with  a  sweet  vibration,  long  and  slow, 

A  last  farewell,  forevermore  farewell. 

And  will  he  wake  and  hear  ?     We  cannot  tell, 

And  will  he  answer  ?     Ah,  we  do  not  know. 


C65] 


WINTER    NIGHT 

THE  snow  lies  crisp  beneath  the  stars, 
On  roofs  and  on  the  ground, 
Late  footsteps  crunch  along  the  paths, 
There  is  no  other  sound. 

So  cold  it  is  the  very  trees 

Snap  in  the  rigid  frost, 

A  dreadful  night  to  think  on  them,  — 

The  homeless  and  the  lost. 

The  dead  sleep  sheltered  in  the  tomb; 
The  rich  drink  in  the  hall; 
The  Virgin  and  the  Holy  Child 
Crouch  shivering  in  a  stall. 


[66] 


THE    RECOMPENSE 

the  last  song  is  sung,  and  the  last  spark 
Of  light  dies  out  forever,  and  the  dark, 
The  voiceless  dark  eternal,  shrouds  the  earth, 
When  the  last  cries  of  pain  and  shouts  of  mirth 
Sink  in  the  desolate  silences  of  space, 
Where  then  shall  flower  the  beauty  of  your  face  ? 
O  Love  the  laughing,  Youth  the  rose-in-hand, 
In  what  unknown  and  undiscovered  land 
Shall  flower  then  the  beauty  of  your  face  ? 

I  know  not,  but  I  know  that  all  returns 
At  last  unchanged,  and  to  the  heart  that  yearns 
Shall  be  repaid  all  loneliness  and  loss; 
Sometime  with  shadowy  sails  shall  fly  across 
The  shoreless  ocean  of  infinity 
A  ship  from  out  the  past,  and  the  great  sea 
Of  life  shall  bear  you  from  the  new  worlds  over 
The  waves,  and  back  again  to  the  old  lover. 


[67] 


PRINTED  AT 

THE  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 
CAMBRIDGE,  MASS.,  TJ.  S.  A. 


/ 


5.1.36-3$ 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


